


Hammer of the Gods

by MB234



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Multiple Avengers Pairings, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MB234/pseuds/MB234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a Valkyrie cursed by Loki to forget who she is, and what she is; what happens when she meets the avengers? Possible pairings with The Winter Soldier or Thor; comment if you like, please enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hammer of the Gods

"Valkyrie, with an accent of blood; who speaks in foreign tongues; whose vowels are the sound of metal clashing

Warrior, with fire in her veins and armor beneath her skin; who crushes the earth beneath her feet

Immortal, hair streaked with daggers and iron filling her lungs, each breath invitingly toxic

Shield Maiden, with lips made of glass and a voice cut from steel; features born from thunder and battle."

 

* * *

 

 

The small shadowed form walked slowly along the side of the highway, her senses scanning the darkened night for scenes of bloodlust and carnage. You were searching, desperately, for anything to bide your time. You had a job to do, and lately employment opportunities had been few and far between. With modern technology and media interest in every war currently being fought, it was hard to find true warriors that belonged where you could take them. Combat nowadays were mostly politics, and the rest were streamlined, tactical gunfire. The epic wars you were raised on, battles ringing with the clash of metal on metal and the stench of blood and sweat in the air, were a thing of legend; just like you yourself. Oh how you _longed_ for those days back.

 

Now you would take anything you could get, for without a battle to watch over you grew restless, itching to fulfill your duty. Your beloved sisters, members of your coven, were busy with their own affairs and had neglected their ancestral plane. Midgard was full of adventure, and it was a great temporary oasis from complicated domestic politics, but it was not home. They had forgotten the rolling majestic fields of Asgard, the glittering, gilded halls of Valhalla. They had all found mates on this plane, or had discovered their own various callings here in Midgard.

 

Apparently your current calling was walking along route 66, waiting for a battle to spring out of a stray bush. You easily cloaked yourself from the humans of the realm, making yourself undetectable; traveling was easier this way. Your effect on Midgardians was...distracting to say the least. You were small compared to your sisters, though what you  lacked in height you made up for in curves. Your long, wild hair snapped down your back, nearly reaching the swell of your hips, some hanks braided and secured out of your face for convenience. You adorned your countenance in traditional Asgardian war paint, as though you were about to go into battle. Your features were regal, beautiful, with high cheekbones and full lips. But it was your eyes that disarmed the humans the most, your eyes that alerted the humans that you were not of this realm. They were a shocking amber color, shot through with gold, glimmering even in the dim light of deep night; those and your impressive wings told of your Asgardian origin. You kept your wings hidden most of the time, but they emerged automatically whenever you collected a soul, or whenever you wanted to show them off.

 

You could pass for a human when your wings were cloaked, but a select few could see through your guise. Even those that could not see through your glamour could subconsciously sense what you were, and wisely stayed away.

 

No matter, you worked better alone, though if the whispers were true, if Odinson was on this mortal plane now, that was something to consider. The mighty Thor could be useful to you; he could help you fulfill your purpose. You were born to lead warriors to their final resting places, you _needed_ to work. You felt a stab of discomfort at your uselessness and fought the urge to scream out your frustrations. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway; your piercing shrieks were currently useless. Long ago, the Trickster had placed a curse on you, the result of you spurning his unwanted advances. He’d claimed that if you attempted to cross into any realm other than Asgard your abilities would be greatly diminished, stunted. At the time you’d scoffed at him, disbelieving of his wicked claims, but your last trip across the Bifrost bridge had not been a smooth one. It seemed that Loki’s curse was stronger than you’d anticipated. Perhaps Odinson could help you regain your full powers. You did so miss wielding your lightning.

 

At that very moment you felt a tug, a nudge from the very depth of your being. A warrior had fallen! Your breath quickened and you tensed to fly, snapping your wings out on either side of your body. It had been centuries since you had felt a soul this strong fading. Vaulting yourself into the air, your strong wings beating heavily at your back, you propelled quickly towards your target. The thin material of your simple black t shirt and black shorts, vestiges of your attempts to appear human, ruffled in the frigid wind, but the cold did not affect you.  Your blood was pounding through your veins, coloring your cheeks and alighting your body with warmth. As you flew, you divested all traces of your remaining glamour; human clothes seamlessly replaced by your Asgardian armor and weapons.

 

Your target was also air borne. Strange, but you were so overjoyed at this unexpected assignment that you didn’t question it. Landing gracefully, your boots made no noise on the surface of the floating aircraft you were now aboard. Folding your wings behind you, you cloaked yourself in a simple invisibility glamour and walked slowly through the rows of humans, most alive, some already dead, in search of the warrior that drew you here.

 

You found him quickly, your keen eyes assessing his numerous gunshot wounds to determine if it was truly his time. He was young, and strapping; handsome even, if you did say so yourself. A shock of pale hair fell across his forehead, which was coated with grit and sweat. His sharp, masculine features contrasted beautifully with his full lips. You cocked your head, studying him. There was something different about this mortal. Something….extra.

 

You shot a hasty glance at the humans around you, ensuring that they were all preoccupied before you knelt beside his prone form and placed your small hands on either side of the mortals face. Focusing your energy, you allowed your cloaking glamour to slip briefly as you read his vitals.

 

There was something strange happening here with this mortal. He should be dead, his heart had technically stopped, and yet he was still clinging to life. His body had not perished yet, and therefore his soul was not ready to vacate his body. He was healing himself, slowly and painstakingly, but he was truly healing. The call you felt must have rung out when his heart rate had all but ceased due to these normally fatal wounds.

 

You were so focused on the still-alive mortal at your feet that you didn’t notice you had let your glamour slip so much that you, wings and all, were exposed. You realized your mistake when a high shrill yell pierced the air, and a hysterical young woman screamed in accented English, “Get away from him!”

 

You were vulnerable while you were harvesting a soul, so you knowingly recoiled your energy from the man. You raised your gaze to the mortal and watched shock color her pretty, tear stained face. The woman looked similar to the young man, very similar. They must be related. A flash of sympathy filled you, making you consider leaving the mortal man to heal in peace and returning later to check on him, until the little human woman stepped forward, raising bare palms that now glowed with an eerie red light, her body positioned in an unmistakably hostile stance. She meant to attack.

 

Anger rose within you at the little mortals gall; who was she to take on a shield maiden, cup bearer to gods. You helped humans; you had a special bond to warriors such as the one laid out in front of her, and this mortal thought to harm you. Your claws straightened in response to the hostility.  As a Valkyrie, your emotions had some connection to weather, specifically thunder, and at that moment it roiled unceremoniously in the perfect clear sky, an eerie mirror of your displeasure. You grudgingly admitted that the thunder would have been more impressive if you’d had a better handle on your powers.

 

Nonetheless the display was harrowing, and caused the red woman to glance around her in apprehension before she resumed her defensive stance. You let your wings unfurl, flexing the pliable muscles of your back to make the appendages shake. You stomped your right foot forward, loosing the biggest shriek you could muster, though it barely shook the structure of the large flying structure they were in. If you’d had your full Valkyrie powers you could have brought the whole thing crashing to the ground. 

  
Luckily the mortals gathering before you seemed to know nothing of your kind, and as such they still found the display formidable. Several strangely dressed humans gathered beside the glowing red woman, and judging by their slackened jaws and wide eyes, they were as shocked as their companion. Slowly they all took defensive stances, some unsheathing weapons; others just shifting their weight, but the intention was unmistakable.

 

You really did not want to take them all on. It was not your place to fight these mortals directly, though if you felt the drive to, you could influence the outcome of mortal battles.

 

Attempting to direct this situation away from bloodshed, you slowly raised a palm and spoke to the mortals, “Peace, humans. I have no business with you”

 

One of the human men, dressed in a tight fitting blue uniform, carrying a brightly colored shield, replied to you, “Then step away from our man.”

 

You glanced down at the mortal lying at your feet before baring your teeth in a feral smile, “Don’t fret, it’s not his time,” you replied, watching the small group assembled before you share nervous glances, “But when it is, do not stand in my way. For your own sake.”

 

A redheaded woman in a tight fitting black suit spoke in a voice filled with awe, and a tinge of suspicion, “What are you?”

 

You grinned at that; you had to admit, you did enjoy interacting with mortals, both on and off the battle field. They had a refreshing air of innocence about them, and these particular mortals seemed strong. You respected that, but they still didn’t need to know of you or your sisters. You locked eyes with the redheaded woman and to her credit she didn’t blanch at the full effect of your gaze.

 

“I hope you won’t have to find out for a long time,” You replied earnestly, your gaze softening. These mortals were truly strong. You hoped they had many more fruitful years before you came to collect them. As you turned to leave, you heard the man in the blue suit yell out, “Thor, now!”

 

You whirled back around, eyes flashing and wings spreading, preparing to demand how these humans knew of the Thunderer. You barely had time to register the ancient, powerful hammer speeding straight towards you before it struck you full force in the center of your chest. The only thing preventing your sternum from cracking as the impact vibrated through your very bones was your finely wrought breast plate. You were instantly thrown backwards, and would’ve landed rather ungracefully on your backside if you hadn’t twisted around to settle on your feet at the last second. Rage burned through you, and you had just sucked in a breath to shriek in displeasure again when a whisper of a memory flitted through your mind.

 

_“Is it my brother you desire over me?” Loki asked, his lips curling cruelly as he took a menacing step towards you, his eyes glittering with malice._

_“No,” You answered, your voice venomous as you tried to put distance between you and the disturbed god before you, “It is simply you that I find abhorrent, Loki. Leave me be.” You had just turned to leave when he gripped your arm in an iron-tight grasp._

_“Do not run from me, little Valkyrie,” He rasped at your ear, his breath hot against your skin. For the first time, you trembled._

Something about what the Trickster had said when he cast his vile curse pricked at your mind, making you pause. Something vital, something that you knew you needed to remember, a warning you needed to heed.

 

_Loki’s face was twisted in anger, in jealousy. He gripped your arm hard, pulling your struggling form closer to him as he spoke._

_“You find me abhorrent?” He asked, not waiting for an answer before he continued, his face mere inches from yours, the glint in his eyes one of undeniable madness, “Then if you will not have me, you will not have my brother either. The next time you meet the Mighty Odinson you will forget everything you hold dear. Who you are, what you are,” He paused, smiling cruelly before he continued, “Your mission. And if you so much as try to return to Midgard you will be stripped of your powers, nearly as helpless as a mortal.”_

_You gasped, incredulous at the Tricksters gall. Your mission, to protect humans, to escort worthy warriors to the glittering halls of Valhalla, was as much a part of you as the breath in your lungs and the blood in your veins. Without your mission you were nothing, and he knew that well. Sudden rage filled you, fueling the fire in your belly._

_“You wouldn’t dare,” You said, your eyes glinting as they met his, “Unhand me, before you lose the appendage.” Loki’s answering smile made your blood turn to ice in your veins._

_“As you wish, little one,” He said, his tone dangerous, his eyes gleaming a wicked shade of green, “But not before a kiss.” You didn’t have time to react before Loki pulled you closer to him and pressed his mouth to yours harshly. You felt a shock thrum through you, something dark worming its way into your mind. Disgusted and disturbed by the sudden churning in your belly, you channeled a bolt of lightning, directing it at the god currently pressed against you. He jolted away from you as if he’d been electrocuted, but he didn’t seem phased. If anything he seemed pleased, that malicious smirk still curving his lips…._

Now you knew why. The Thunderer. You couldn’t get near him, you couldn’t even see him, or else you’d be damned, which was exactly what Loki wanted. Panic blooming in your chest, you stumbled away from the group that was steadily advancing on you, your anger at them overshadowed by your instincts of self-preservation. Your only concern now was escape and revenge from the Trickster who’d cursed you so darkly. However, as you tensed to fly, your wings snapping out beside you, extending to their full imposing length, Thor stepped forward, his hammer zooming back to his outstretched hand. _Gods,_ you’d forgotten how handsome he was. When your gilded gaze locked with his electric sapphire orbs you simultaneously realized two things; you were doomed, and as a malicious, alien force rose in your chest, curling darkly in the corners of your mind, you knew Loki had won.


End file.
